My childhood church had a cinderblock, cement-floored basement that we used as a fellowship hall. We had huge sliding paneled partitions that could be rolled out for Sunday School or Awana club meetings. But, on special occasions, the partitions were rolled to one end, and folding tables came out – each one decorated with a white paper and a centerpiece. It was time for a Baptist potluck. Baptists like to eat and cook together – thus they organize a tremendous number of potluck dinners. We had potlucks for funerals, for special occasions, for retirements, for youth group graduations. At every potluck, the women would bring out a huge metal coffee pot, and set up three eight-foot long tables in front to hold the bounty of food offerings. Women would come bustling in before church carrying casserole dishes covered with kitchen towels. As a child, the selection of food was intimidating. I remember trying to remember which dish my mom brought. There were casseroles made of hambu